DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.51521#0032
04)
“Mr. Vizetelly?” I said, “and who is he? His name is
Italian. ’ ’ “Many generations back he was Italian, or Jew, ’ ’
Byron answered, “but he is an English writer and jour-
nalist. He was a correspondent of the Times when Queen
Victoria went to visit the Empress Eugenie in theTuiller-
ies, and he was much appreciated. He is an author too.
He has written some historical works. The story of The
Diamond Necklace is a classic and will always be referred
to when the story of the disappearance of the necklace
comes to be talked about for one reason or another. Life,
you see, is always a recurrence. A wheel has only a cer-
tain number of spokes and they come round in turn.”
This philosophical expression seemed strange on Byron’s
jovial visage, and thinking his mission with me finished
he picked up his black bag containing manuscripts of the
articles he had to read for the little journal he edited
across the way. “But I must detain you, Mr. Webber. Do
you know Mr. Vizetelly well, and if you do, will you
give me a letter of introduction?” “Know him well, I
have known him all my life. No introduction is needed.
I am going home to Notting Hill. Do you go up Catherine
Street and find him for yourself. Tell him you have come
from France, where you lived ten or a dozen years. That
will interest him. He will look upon you first perhaps as
a translator—he is like a hawk, with fixed inquisitive
eyes. As thin as a rake you will find him, too small for
his clothes,” and I went up the street trying to fill in the
“Mr. Vizetelly?” I said, “and who is he? His name is
Italian. ’ ’ “Many generations back he was Italian, or Jew, ’ ’
Byron answered, “but he is an English writer and jour-
nalist. He was a correspondent of the Times when Queen
Victoria went to visit the Empress Eugenie in theTuiller-
ies, and he was much appreciated. He is an author too.
He has written some historical works. The story of The
Diamond Necklace is a classic and will always be referred
to when the story of the disappearance of the necklace
comes to be talked about for one reason or another. Life,
you see, is always a recurrence. A wheel has only a cer-
tain number of spokes and they come round in turn.”
This philosophical expression seemed strange on Byron’s
jovial visage, and thinking his mission with me finished
he picked up his black bag containing manuscripts of the
articles he had to read for the little journal he edited
across the way. “But I must detain you, Mr. Webber. Do
you know Mr. Vizetelly well, and if you do, will you
give me a letter of introduction?” “Know him well, I
have known him all my life. No introduction is needed.
I am going home to Notting Hill. Do you go up Catherine
Street and find him for yourself. Tell him you have come
from France, where you lived ten or a dozen years. That
will interest him. He will look upon you first perhaps as
a translator—he is like a hawk, with fixed inquisitive
eyes. As thin as a rake you will find him, too small for
his clothes,” and I went up the street trying to fill in the